[ He goes for the table, the spot by the door, all the kinds of places you might stash keys. ] Okay, I'll--hang on, I'm checking the bedrooms!

[ A closet quarter-full of women's clothes. Bags stashed near the front d--aha. His head is starting to feel dreamy, the dreadful surreal feeling of something dangerous being close, but Quentin focuses on hurrying back to the trapdoor, shoving the key into the lock. What kind of rental cabin keeps chains like this? ] Almost got it.

Cheryl, right? You said--you said something's coming? What's coming?